Sirius Was a Freaking Leprechaun
by Snickerbuzz
Summary: Somewhere, deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, a werewolf and a toad were being tortured. Well, Lupin realized, Sirius is lucky to be dead. [LupinUmbridge]


_A/N: Just wanted to try and pull off the most bizarre pairing I could think of. Please tell me if I did it well - I'd like to know._

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_, J.K. Rowling does, and I'm not making a dime off of this.

* * *

**Sirius Was A Freaking Leprechaun**

-

_I_

-

Somewhere, deep inside the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, a werewolf and a toad were being tortured. A drone for the Department of Domestic and Familial Affairs sat behind a desk, watching the woman who was equally his partner in crime and his victim.

Remus Lupin and Dolores Umbridge were, according to the latest in Ministry policies, to be married by the end of September.

_Why'd I push Tonks away? _Lupin wondered. _Oh, right. Low self-esteem. Gotta work on that. _Of course, Tonks was dead, now, but he'd kept away from her in life, too.

Umbridge just stared at Aster Gravesworth, her pudgy little mouth working silently. "You cannot be serious, Mr. Gravesworth. Leaving me alone with a . . . a dangerous werewolf. Who knows what he'll _do_ to me," she said girlishly, her shoulders quivering. A handkerchief - complete with mewing kitten - had found its way into her hand.

"I've never bitten anyone, Ms. Umbridge," Lupin said coldly, leaning back in his chair, his graying-but-thick hair, which was definitely in need of a cut, falling back over his shoulders. He turned to Gravesworth. "Mr. Gravesworth, I don't have the money to support a wife and kids right now. You have to understand, my condition makes it difficult to get a job, and the money I do have is spent on wolfsbane, a lot of the time."

Gravesworth, a thin, tall man whose body reminded Lupin distinctly of a flower stem, straightened his spectacles nervously. "Ever since the non-magical world found out about the existence of ours, Muggle-wizard marriages have been in steady decline. You're not the only ones being forced to do this. The Minister -"

"Addlepan?" Lupin interrupted incredulously. "Joculus Addlepan? He came up with this? Why on Earth does he want me to marry this -" He glanced over at Umbridge. Conflict was evident in her face. Lupin almost laughed. To obey her precious Minister and marry Remus Lupin - a filthy, dangerous halfbreed - or to not, and possibly ruin her status with him. "- woman," he finished lamely. "Look, why can't you just find someone else?"

_Hem-hem_. Apparently Umbridge had made up her mind, judging by the extra sugary-sweetness in her cough. "Mr. Gravesworth, I believe that this must be a fluke. I'm sure the Minister doesn't mean to force together two people who are so unhappy together."

Gravesworth furrowed his brow, and clasped his hands together on top of his desk. He tilted his narrow head. "My son was a first-year while you were Headmistress at Hogwarts, you know. Perhaps you knew him. Phoebus Gravesworth? He came home that summer with four of his toenails missing, and flinched every time someone said his name. Had nothing to do with you, I'm sure."

Umbridge gave a tiny smile, but could not conceal the defeat in her voice. "No, I did not."

Lupin gave a small groan, bowed his head in misery, and breathed a calming breath. He had no leverage - Merlin's beard, he was werewolf. His shabby robes seemed to deflate over his thin figure. After a long moment's silence, he looked up at Gravesworth. "Anything else?"

Gravesworth nodded, his thin neck bending nearly in half with the motion. "Yes. If you have not had at least one child by September of _next _year, you are eligible for psychiatric examination and, upon proof of sanity, up to a year in Azkaban."

"_What?_" Lupin and Umbridge exclaimed in unison.

"I'm too old, I think -" Lupin began.

"I don't like to admit it, but I believe I'm a little past my prime -" Umbridge started.

Gravesworth raised his eyebrows. "You're both only in your fifties. You have a good hundred years left in you, especially with modern advances in Healing. Women can have children later, men don't lose it as early. Now, sign these. You have until September to have a wedding; after September the first, regardless of whether you've had one, you will be legally married."

_Divorce isn't an option, is it? _Lupin thought bitterly, and promptly decided he'd find someone to have an affair with.

-

_II_

-

Within a month they had moved into Umbridge's flat in London, as directed by Ministry regulations. Lupin slept on the couch, and, considering that she _was not _buying him any new robes, and he was not wearing any she bought him, he mostly slept shirtless.

Umbridge had to admit, if only to herself, that in an emaciated sort of way, Remus Lupin wasn't all that bad looking without a shirt on. But he was a werewolf, and therefore dangerous.

It was, after all, only a week until the full moon. The one thing she was willing to buy for him, and the one thing he was willing to take from her, was wolfsbane. The Muggles had gotten a hold of some of it, somehow, along with quite a number of other potions - tricky little savages. But she wasn't going to bargain with unknowledgeable brutes, and went to a local apothecary instead. It was probably a better brew, anyway.

If she had to marry the man, she'd at least prevent him from killing her.

As she walked down the streets, her pink robes waving behind her, several Muggles glared, but she just looked at them threateningly and they'd backed down.

That Potter boy (she still thought there was something wrong with him, even if he wasn't insane) had stopped Voldemort from breaking the Statute of Secrecy and then it happened anyway. The only benefit was being able to walk down a crowed London street without changing into those terribly uncomfortable things Muggles passed as robes.

Umbridge smiled to herself, pushing all her troubles out of her mind. She straightened her hat, and began to hum a little tune to herself. _Hem-hem, hmm-hmm, hem-hem, hmm-hmm, hmm-hem _. . .

Finally she got to the apothecary - which was, despite recent events, still magically hidden from Muggle eyes - and walked up to the counter, where a wispy boy, maybe eighteen, sat reading a copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"_Hem-hem_," Umbridge coughed. The boy looked up, his small eyes gazing at her weakly. Umbridge had always liked the apothecary shop boy. "Is it possible to buy, oh, three months worth of wolfsbane here, Marcus?" she asked sweetly.

"It's not in stock, but I can ask Mr. Snarre to brew you some." He paused, and set down the _Prophet_. "Are you a victim of the forced marriage thing, too? Ministry's making me marry some girl who was in my year at Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, and reckless as anything. Last month of school she flew fifty feet in the air on her broom and jumped off, just to prove she could do a proper cushioning charm."

Umbridge hesitated, doing her best to keep her girlish smile. "Yes, I am." she said at last. "I don't know why they're making me do this at such a late age, but I suppose everyone has to do their part." She threw in a giggle, just to be sure. The kitten on her handbag mewled.

"Damn Muggles," Marcus agreed. "Right. I'll tell Mr. Snarre about your request for wolfsbane. Come back in two days."

"How much will it be?" she asked.

"Likely a hundred galleons."

Umbridge gasped slightly to herself, and the struggle to keep her smile became far more difficult. _No wonder the werewolf doesn't have any money_, she thought.

But she managed, and gave a perky nod rather reminiscent of that of a schoolgirl. The moment she walked out of the shop, her toady face twisted into a scowl. Immediately she caught herself and began smiling again.

It was all for the Ministry. She had to keep reminding herself that it was all for the Ministry, and wizard kind.

-

_III_

-

The moment Lupin walked into the place where he and Umbridge were to be married, he regretted letting Umbridge plan the thing. Little kittens with bows around their necks had been tethered with pink ribbon to all the corners of the octagonal room, and yet more pink ribbon adorned the walls. Fuchsia-colored flowers had been woven around the seats, and the wedding arch . . . _Merlin's beard_, thought Lupin. _I thought_ _the house was bad._

"Blimey," said a familiar voice behind him. "I'm glad I married Hermione."

Lupin turned around to see Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and their two children standing in front of him. "Ron," he said in surprise.

"You invited us, mate," Ron said cheerfully, holding out a hand. Lupin shook it.

"True," Lupin said, then turned to Hermione and shook her hand. "It's good to see you all. Where's Harry?"

"He and Ginny are leaving their kids at Ron's mum," Hermione explained. "They didn't quite trust them to be around Umbridge.

Hugo and Rose had moved in close to their parents, staring around the room in a mixture of shock and horror. Despite being seventeen, Rose Weasley looked absolutely terrified, and her younger brother - fourteen - doubly so.

"Where's Umbridge?" Rose asked nervously. "From what Uncle Harry's told us, she sounds frightening."

Lupin glanced at her parents. "She's, uh, getting ready." He looked at Hermione. "You know, the wedding doesn't start for another hour. I was just in here checking up on things." A kitten mewled.

Hermione smiled weakly. "We wanted to comfort you. You've been nothing but help to us, Remus, and the Ministry . . . well, the Ministry can be a bit ridiculous."

"You can say that again," Ginny said, as she and Harry walked up. She turned to her husband. "Aren't you glad we got married quickly, now?" she said.

Harry laughed, but his expression became immediately. "Remus. Can't believe the Ministry's making you marry _Umbridge_. I don't suppose there was any way out of it?"

"No, unfortunately. Muggles aren't particularly keen on marrying witches and wizards these days, it seems," Lupin agreed. He sighed. "Well, never mind my personal problems, how have you all been?" He paused. "What years are your kids?"

Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny. "We're fine. James is heading into his seventh year, Al his sixth, Lily her fourth, and Sirius his second. Dora and Fred will be going in next year, and Alastor and Collin still have two years to go." Harry inhaled. Ginny smiled and patted his back.

"Still can't believe you had more kids than Mum, Gin. And two sets of twins," Ron said, shaking his head. Ginny shrugged.

"I've always wanted a large family."

"I'm fine with just Rose and Hugo. They're going into their seventh and fifth years, by the way," Ron said.

Hermione put her hand on Rose's shoulder. "She's graduated at NEWT level in five of her classes," Hermione declared proudly. "She wants to be a professor."

"Mum," Rose said, annoyed. Hugo snickered.

"_Hugo_ is star chaser for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team," Ron said. "Thinking of buying him a Nimbus 2008, I am." He took a moment to look down at his son in a very smug manner, then said, "Going to play for Britain, aren't you?"

Hugo flushed, mumbled a quick 'yes' and retreated to go sit on one of the benches Umbridge had had set up. Rose followed.

Lupin thought privately that if he had more than the mandatory one child with Dolores Umbridge, he would kill himself. Any child that was a mixture of his DNA - which was, admittedly, lacking - and hers was bound to turn out wrong. Forget Quidditch and NEWTs, he'd hope it would pass all seven years.

"You can all go sit down. I still have things to attend to," Lupin told them all. "I have to get a few last minute adjustments made on my dress robes. Dolores thought they were important."

"Dolores?" Ron questioned. "You're on a first name basis, now?"

"We're going to be married," Lupin said dryly. "It can't hurt."

"Suit yourself," Ginny said, and waved as they went to join Rose and Hugo. Lupin sighed, and, with a loud crack, Disapparated back to the tailor's. If this had anything to do with adding more lace, well . . .

-

_IV_

-

_If nothing else, I get a beautiful wedding_, Umbridge thought. _Even if that Potter boy had to come. _Kittens mewled softly in the corners, and on her wedding dress, and she giggled girlishly, trying to portray some degree of happiness for the Ministry officials overseeing the ceremony.

Her favorite song was playing in the background, and fuchsia flowers threw themselves out of the air behind her. Her bouquet magically bloomed as she walked down the aisle.

_Hem-hem, hmm-hmm, hem-hem, hmm-hmm, hmm-hem _. . .

As she approached the wedding arch, she could clearly the see the poorly hidden expression of pain on Lupin's face. The lace around the collar of his robes had ridden up into his face, his graying hair falling back to cover his neck. If there was nothing else she could agree with him on, it was that this was a horrible idea. Surely this was a mistake, her intended partner was . . . someone else . . .

The ceremony proceeded without incident, and Umbridge - now Dolores Jane Umbridge Lupin - noticed that the first thing her new husband did was to pour himself and everyone around him a tall glass of Old Ogden's.

She looked on, disgusted. That was, as far as Umbridge was concerned, a man's drink, and she found a bottle of grade-A Phoenix Tear, California's finest. She'd always had a thing for American wines.

When she was on her seventh glass, several members of the Department of Domestic and Familial affairs - including Aster Gravesworth - walked up. "Beautiful wedding," a stocky, middle-aged witch with a ponytail said. "I wish I'd thought of the kittens thing when I married Onixius." She looked at Umbridge wistfully for a moment, then snapped out of it. "I'm sorry you had to marry a werewolf, dear, but we did this one by Random Chance. One in a billion chance you'd end up with Remus Lupin."

"Why didn't you try a Matchmaker Charm?" Umbridge asked, forgetting her girlishness in her inebriated haze. "Or did you just apply the Random Chance to the Werewolf Registry?"

"Tried it. But it malfunctioned every time we tried it with your name - nothing came up."

"Ah," Umbridge said. "Well, toodleloo, we'll have our kid soon. Mr. Gravesworth, tell Phoebus that Filch was just playin' . . . didn't mean to slam his foot with a mop handle . . ."

Gravesworth started to speak, but Umbridge was already halfway through a eighth glass of wine. _Werewolf_, she thought. _I'm married to a bloody werewolf. _She hiccupped.

"Don't buy any more self-refilling bottles of Phoenix Tear, Mrs. Lupin," Gravesworth said coldly, and led the Ministry workers out of the building.

Umbridge waved them off.

Then, just as she was about to start her ninth glass, Lupin came over. "Don', swee'hear'. Can' Disapparate home drun'."

"Too late!" Umbridge cackled, ignoring the astonished faces around them.

"She really _is _quite terrifying," she heard Rose Weasley mutter.

"Drunker than Professor Trelawney," Hugo Weasley whispered back in agreement.

"No first dance, apparently," Harry Potter said, almost sounding disappointed.

Umbridge cackled again, grabbed her hubby's arm, and Disapparated back to her flat.

_Oh dear_, she thought mid-Apparation. _I'm married to a werewolf._

And, from somewhere out in the ether, even Muggles managed to hear her scream of utter horror.


End file.
